


(I Could) Get You Right

by jubileus



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Anal Sex, Asshole Eren, Bisexual Eren Yeager, Daddy Kink, Enemies to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Open Relationships, Polyamory, Post-Timeskip Appearances, Recreational Drug Use, Top Eren Yeager, side Eren/Springles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2019-10-14 07:18:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17504087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jubileus/pseuds/jubileus
Summary: Eren doesn't need his publicist, butdamndoes he want him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> decided to write the raunchy modern AU of my dreams bc the manga is out of control and nothing matters anymore. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> ft. asshole-due-to-unaddressed-trauma Eren & publicist-w-a-mysterious-past Levi. also ft. polyamorous Connie/Sasha/ ~~Nicolo~~ as Eren's FWB's bc they're total babes and deserve better!!

* * *

 

There’s a loud, incessant ringing rattling Eren back to consciousness beneath a haze of smoke and gauzy trip-hop music. The irritating noise makes him groan aloud, comfortable as he is—naked and still half-drunk, with a warm body pressed against his side. His bedroom- one of 10 total rooms in his penthouse- is large with high ceilings and automatic lighting. The floor-length shades are drawn despite it being the afternoon. It’s nothing less than a typical Saturday (or was it Thursday?) for the young hitmaker.

The noise continues, coming from somewhere off to the left of the large, sprawling bed. From beneath a pile of bedsheets and various items of contraband, Eren yawns and attempts a futile reach for the screeching object. He feels his way through a surface of clutter—unopened condoms, bowls and baggies, assorted pills, etc. His search comes up empty.

Blinking blearily, Eren tosses off the bedspread and looks toward his cluttered bedside table, where his phone usually rests. It isn’t there.

Cursing, Eren leans over the side of the bed, where he at last spots his phone resting atop a discard pile of clothes. The movement pulls the sheets from the body of his bedmate, a curvy brunette who whimpers in protest as the cold air hits her bare skin. Eren ignores her, stretching his bare, tattooed torso over the edge of the mattress. He swipes his phone from the ground, just as it stops ringing.

Eren nearly swipes right to call them back, only to freeze when he recognizes the number.

_Oh, **shit**._

All of a sudden, it all comes back to him—the phone call that he had received last week, the promise he had made to his brother…

Foggy pieces of their conversation pass through his mind. Eren falls back onto his bed with a loud, irritated noise. “Ah, _fuck_ me.”

“I could go for another round, if you want it.”

The voice comes from his adjacent bathroom. Connie Springer, Eren’s closest friend and frequent fuck buddy, leans out of the doorframe with a towel around his shoulders and toothbrush in hand. His chest is dotted with hickeys. “Or did you want to order breakfast first?”

Eren’s stomach grumbles at the mere mention of food. But he shakes his head. “Can’t. _Shit._ I’m so screwed.”

“What’s up, boy problems?”

“I _wish_. It’s my fucking brother.” Eren yawns again, sitting back up slowly. He scratches at the tangled mess that his hair has turned into overnight. “I was supposed to meet him like, an hour ago.”

“So? Tell him you’ll raincheck it.” Connie spits in the sink and rinses his mouth, then returns to the messy bed, moving up close behind shivering body of his girlfriend. “What the hell does he want from you on the weekend, anyway?”

“S’friday morning.” Sasha tells Connie sleepily as he gently runs his hand through her hair.  
  
“Still the weekend.”

“It’s four in the afternoon.” Eren corrects them both, ignoring the other notifications pinging his phone.

“What’s for breakfast?” Sasha mumbles, sitting up and letting the sheets pool around her waist. Distracted as he is, Eren doesn’t even look over to appreciate her body, but Connie does; they make out while Eren scrolls through his call log. There are over 10 missed calls from Pieck, Zeke’s assistant, and three missed calls from the man himself.

Shit.

 -

_“It’s me. I have something I need to discuss with you.” Zeke had said over the phone, after tricking Eren into picking up by calling from unknown. “Can you meet at my office next Friday?”_

_Eren had been in the middle of rolling a joint for two hotties he met at the club the night before. It was an afternoon much like this one, except he’s at Connie’s place, a minimalist loft located a few neighborhoods south of Eren’s penthouse._

_Eren is already annoyed; the only reason he had answered the call was because he had assumed it’d be his dealer. “Sure. Whatever.”_

_“I mean it, Eren. It’s really important. Promise you’ll show up.”_

_“I said I’d be there, goddamn. No, babe—I’m not cursing at_ you _, it’s my brother—”_

 _Zeke sighs on the other line. “I’ll have Pieck remind you during the week.”_  
  
_Eren had rolled his eyes. “God, why are you so far up my ass? I don’t need to be reminded.”_

_“I’m not trying to be—” Zeke made a noise of frustration. “I just want to emphasize that I really, really need you to meet with me.”_

_“I heard you already. I gotta go.” Eren hung up and tossed his phone aside, then grinned when one of his hookups crawled into his lap with a pout._

_“Sorry… now, where were we?”_

 -

“Goddamn it.” Eren curses again. The last thing he wants to do is sit through a “meeting” with his older brother. If it is to be anything last the last time, it’ll just be an hour of Zeke scolding him for something the tabloids reported while Eren stares blankly out of the window.

On the other hand, if Eren doesn’t show up, Zeke will only harass him more frequently—and might even start appearing in person. Eren grimaces at the thought of his annoying half- brother popping up anywhere near his social events.

_Ugh. Guess I don’t have a choice…_

Sasha has ended up sprawled across Connie’s lap; she reaches for the bong on the bedside table and passes it to Eren with a sympathetic look. “At least you can bring us back some food.”

Eren snorts before taking a hit and coughing it out. Then he raises his voice.

“Floch!”

“Yeah, boss?” Eren’s assistant responds from just outside the closed bedroom doors, knowing better than to enter without being asked.

“Call a cab for me.” Eren reaches for a crumpled t-shirt and throws it on. “I’ll be downstairs in 5.”

“Of course. Where to, boss?”

Eren scrubs a hand across his face, groaning internally. “City Hall.”

 

**-x-**

  
At 23 years old, Eren Yeager is excessively handsome, effortlessly confident and uncommonly talented—or, at least that’s how his fans describe him. His rise to becoming an internationally known performer is a story that isn’t unusual for a young man in the industry. Fucked up childhood, mom died early, left in the care of a controlling, asshole father who barely wanted anything to do with him.

Unsurprisingly, he left home the second he turned 18, moved across the country and began pursuing his passions full time. For three years he made music and worked odd jobs on the side, until he achieved national airplay with his hit single _Titan Life_ , an indie trip-hop song that spent five months straight at the top of the charts.  
  
Since then, he’s had it all-- money, fame, drugs and sex. It was the life he’d always dreamed of, what he fantasized about while living under his father’s rule. Sure, maybe he went a little too hard a little too often—but Eren has _earned_ this lifestyle, has worked too hard to not reap the rewards.  
  
Unfortunately, not everyone agrees. The constant thorn in his side, the one person who is determined to hate on his happiness is none other than Zeke Yeager, Eren’s older half-brother and current Mayor of the city of Paradis. Though he’s grateful for the support Zeke gave him when he first moved out west, Eren could do without much of the blond’s meddling in his life.

Half an hour later, Eren pulls up to City Hall, a broad, stately building near the district’s harbor. Despite knowing the guards quite well (“How’s the wife and kids, Nile?”) he’s forced to go through two separate metal detectors, and a not-to-gentle pat down before he’s permitted into the elevator.

 _Let’s see what this asshole wants._ Eren thinks to himself, yawning as the elevator takes him up. He doesn’t have a single clue why Zeke wanted to meet with him today, but he assumes it’s for something super unnecessary. He hopes the meeting will be quick, at least. It is a Friday, after all, and his phone is already blowing up with invitations.

He steps out onto the 8th floor, hands in his pockets as he approaches the curved desk just outside his brother’s office. Zeke’s assistant sits at the desk, anxiously shuffling through her papers; she looks up at the sound of his footsteps and immediately frowns.

“Do you have any idea how late you are?” She says as he approaches the desk.

“No. Does it look like I care?” Eren responds, already annoyed by her presence. He and Pieck have never really gotten along. Out of all the people on Zeke’s team, she was the best at her job, but also the most uptight.

In lieu of a response, Pieck eyes his wrinkled t-shirt and sweatpants with disgust. She then grabs her keycard from the desk and moves briskly over to the closed double doors of the mayor’s personal office. Eren follows unhurriedly.

Pieck hardly has time to knock before a loud voice booms, _“Get in here.”_

With flourish, Pieck swipes her keycard and opens the door wide for Eren to enter through.

The rear of Zeke’s office boasts five impressive floor-length widows, offering a full view of the seaside below. The sun is setting just off to the left, casting the sky in a warm orange-blue gradient. Zeke is seated behind his desk in the center of the room, his hands folded in front of him, expression unreadable behind the glare of his glasses.

Zeke’s two personal bodyguards, Galliard and Yelena, stand behind him on either side. On the left sofa is a blond man who Eren recognizes as Colt, Zeke’s campaign manager. Next to him most surprisingly is Mikasa, Eren’s close friend from childhood, who had moved overseas to Hizuru last year.

Curious, Eren raises an eyebrow at her; ordinarily she’d tell him when she was flying back to the city. Mikasa averts her eyes in response.

Seated casually on the parallel sofa is a dark-haired man Eren has never seen before, but instantly wants to get to know better. He has an indifferent look on his attractive face, with piercing grey eyes and a sharp jawline. He is dressed neatly in a black high-necked sweater and tailored slacks. Eren’s attention is drawn to him instantly, and he wonders why a man as gorgeous as him would be hanging out with someone as lame as his brother.  
  
There’s an almost palpable tension in the room, and it’s only amplified as Pieck shuts the door behind them. It is quite clearly some sort of intervention; but Eren, as hungover and uncaring as he is, completely ignores the obvious set-up.

“It’s _about fucking time_ you showed up.” Oh yeah, Zeke is pissed. “You’re an hour late.”

Eren shrugs. He’s unable to tear his eyes away from the unknown man, sitting slim and pretty on the sofa. He likes the way the stranger meets his gaze evenly, practically staring him down. _Damn, why is that so hot?_

“I overslept.”

“It’s almost nightfall.” Pieck mutters.

The snide remark is enough to pull his attention, at last. Eren shoots her an irritated look. “Can we skip the lecture and get on with it?”

“I’d be glad to.” Zeke pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, then gestures to the man on the couch. “This is Levi Ackerman.”

_Finally, a name._

“Is he single?” Eren drawls, pulling his lower lip between his teeth and deliberately looking Levi up and down.  
  
“He might be,” Levi responds smoothly. “But he’s not interested in habitually late slackers who don’t know how to dress.”

Eren, who is used to men and women alike fawning all over him, hadn’t expected the biting response. Taken aback, he considers his sloppy appearance, then shrugs again. “Your loss.”

“I’m _sure_.”

Levi’s voice is heavy with sarcasm. Oddly enough, it does nothing to tamper Eren’s attraction to the man.

That is, until he hears Zeke’s next words.

“I didn’t hire Levi so you could strike out, Eren.” Zeke informs his younger brother coolly. “He’s your new publicist.”  
  
“What?”

“I said, I hired you a publicist. Starting Monday, you will officially be represented by Mr. Ackerman _._ ”

“Funny.” Eren snorts derisively. He had expected a long-winded rant, not a prank. “Why am I really here?”

“I’m not joking.” Zeke says, an unfamiliar finality to his voice.

Eren reads the room, finally.

Yelena and Galliard, who he usually gets along with outside of their working hours, are pointedly looking away. Colt has his eyes on his phone, though he isn’t fooling anyone. Mikasa gazes at him sadly, her hands clasped together in her lap.

Eren’s expression slides into something intensely guarded. “…You’re serious.”

“ _Dead_ serious.”

“What do I need a _publicist_ for?” Eren says the word as if he’s repulsed by it.

“Eren…” Mikasa speaks up, hesitantly. “You’ve been acting kind of… kind of out of control lately. All those stories in the news… the fighting, the DUIs… I-- …we’re worried about you.”

“Really?” Eren scowls, even as his hackles start to rise. He isn’t used to being called out like this, and it’s making him defensive. “You know half of that shit is made up.”

Eren mostly ignores the stories that are published about him, and half the time he legitimately can’t remember if what they wrote was true or not. At any rate, it’s not like he cares about what the general public thought of him. He has far more interesting things and people to do than obsessively google himself.

“Perhaps.” Zeke says, though his tone sounds unconvinced. “Regardless, it’s a problem that needs to be addressed. So from now on, Levi will oversee everything _Eren Yeager_ related. That means _you_ , your schedule, your social media, and anything else he deems in need of attention.”

_What?!_

“Are you fucking _kidding_?” Eren whirls back to face his brother in shock. “So you hired me a babysitter, basically.”

 _Someone to tell me what to do, how to act, what to say… like a fucking trained monkey._ Zeke must have officially lost his mind.

“Don’t think of it like that.” Mikasa pleads.

“What else am I supposed to think, Mikasa? You know how I feel about—" Eren’s eyes land on Colt, and he stops. A slow realization dawns on him.

“Wait a minute… it’s an election year, isn’t it.”

Zeke pinches the bridge of his nose. “That has nothing to do with this.”

Eren lets out a laugh of disbelief. _“Bullshit._ You want to get re-elected, but instead of being a _decent mayor_ you’re trying to control _my_ life instead.”

“Eren, please!” Mikasa puts her hands up defensively. “No one’s trying to control you.”

Eren ignores her, stalking over to Zeke’s desk and slamming his hands down onto the surface. Mikasa and Colt jump at the sound; everyone else is used to it.

“This is just fucking _priceless_.” Eren is past the point of minding his tone or his volume. “You’re so incapable of doing your job that you have to butt into my life? Really?”

 “I can’t do my _job_ when every 5 minutes there’s another reporter asking me to comment on your shitty behavior!” Zeke explodes in kind, nearly toppling his desk chair as he rises to meet Eren’s anger head on. “Your actions effect other people, Eren! Why can’t you see that?”

“What I can _see,”_ Eren shouts, “Is you doing _the exact same shit_ that dad used to do!”

Galliard and Yelena exchange a look. “Here we go.” Galliard mutters, making Yelena cover her mouth.

“Don’t be _ridiculous._ If I were dad I would’ve—” Zeke stops himself, taking a deep breath lest he push Eren too far. When Zeke exhales, he pushes his glasses up once more and fixes his brother with his steely blue gaze.  
  
“You would’ve _what?”_ Eren yells, daring him to finish his sentence.

“Don’t change the subject.” Zeke refuses to bite. “This is for your own good, Eren.”

“That’s exactly what _he_ would say.” Eren scoffs. “God, you are exactly like him—"

Zeke grits his teeth. “How _dare_ you—”

“--Maybe if you cared more about potholes instead of my personal life—”

“Eren, please just calm down--” Mikasa tries.

“Don’t tell me to calm down!”

Pieck, who has witnessed every fight Eren and Zeke have gotten into, has had enough. “If you would get your head out of your ass _for one minute_ —"

Eren whirls around to glare at her. “You stay out of this, you fucking bi—"

 ** _Wham_**.

In a split second, Eren finds himself slammed face down on the mahogany coffee table, one arm twisted behind his back and the other secured by the wrist.

"What the _fuck!"_ Snarling, Eren tests the hold and finds it to be completely unbreakable.  
  
“First order of business: you’re gonna watch that disrespectful mouth of yours while I’m around.” Levi leans down close to Eren’s ear, speaking casually as if he were doing anything but forcing him down in a submission hold.

“Get the fuck off me.” Eren growls against the table, his bodying trembling with rage.

In response, Levi pushes Eren’s arm further into his back, making the long-haired man choke back a yelp.

“When you apologize to her.”

There’s a long, awkward silence while Eren struggles, pain shooting up and down his bicep. When it becomes obvious that Levi doesn’t intend to release him, Eren grits his teeth and looks up at Pieck. The young woman looks partially bewildered at the scene in front of her, and the rest of the room is similarly shocked.

“I’m… sorry.” Eren grits out.

She nods, albeit hesitantly.

“Good boy.” Levi releases Eren and steps back, looking completely unruffled as he perches himself back on the sofa, a bystander to the brothers’ argument once more.

Eren stumbles upright, breathing hard. Unlike at the start of the meeting, all eyes are now fixed on him; Eren reads them as accusing, judgmental. His hands ball into fists at his sides. He hasn’t felt this powerless since before he left home.

Zeke clears his throat, breaking the tense silence.

“Levi will be accompanying you from now on. He has my full support in… handling you at his discretion.”

Eren is nearly beside himself in anger. He wants to act out, wants to show just how pissed off he is at the situation—but the stinging reminder in his arm won’t let him. He settles for sweeping his hateful glare across the room and extending his middle finger when his eyes settle on Zeke.

“You’re _dead_ to me. All of you.”

Then he turns and stalks out of the room, slamming the door shut loud enough to rattle the paintings on the wall.  
  
The occupants of the room let out a collective breath as the door slams shut behind him. Mikasa sniffles softly, using a tissue to dab at her eyes. Pieck is still in shock about receiving an actual apology from Eren. Levi sits with his arms folded, his expression unreadable.

“So… that went well.” Yelena says uncertainly.  
  
Zeke combs his hand through his hair as he retakes his seat behind the desk. His glasses flash as he steeples his fingers.  
  
Then, a wide grin spreads across his face. “It went _great.”_


	2. Chapter 2

Thirty-one-year-old Levi Ackerman hasn’t been in Public Relations as long as most of his colleagues, but all of them can admit that he is damn good at his job.

Perhaps it’s because he’s been in the music business for over a decade and has seen hundreds of acts rise to the top before crashing and burning. Maybe it’s because he grew up in a rough neighborhood and had to fend for himself since early childhood, thus instilling in him enough street smarts to avoid negative attention.

Or maybe it’s due to his natural-born persistence and willingness to use rather… _unorthodox_ methods to get his charges to act right.

Whatever it is, Levi’s reputation speaks for itself. Those who are familiar with him _know_ that he’s not the type of man one should keep waiting.

As for everyone else… well, they’re bound to find out, sooner than later.

Which is why he’s currently fixing the weaselly, obviously-trying-to-stall brunet in front of him with a fierce unmoving glare.

“You want to say that again?”

“Uhm… E-Eren is busy right now.”

Although he’s sweating nervously, Floch Forster repeats himself with little hesitation. “…He, uh… he can’t meet with you.”

That’s _far_ from what Levi wants to hear.

It’s Monday morning, 11 AM. Levi had gained access into Eren’s penthouse via the keycard gifted to him by Mayor Zeke Yeager and was en route to what he assumed was the bedroom when he had been intercepted by Eren’s so-called personal assistant. His intent was to wake the young musician, only to be informed by the scattered, flustered brunet that Eren is already awake but also was not to be disturbed. Of course, that doesn’t settle well with Levi at all.

“He should have known to expect me… as a matter of fact, _you_ should have known to expect me. Didn’t Zeke reach out to you?”

“Well… I’ve been instructed to ignore all correspondence from Zeke Yeager.”

“Is that so. Worse for you, then.” Levi says. “Step aside.”

“Ah-- I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“Excuse me?”

Floch continues to shift nervously.

In the ensuing silence, the source of Floch’s discomfort becomes clear; from the other side of the door comes the unmistakable noises of obscenely enthusiastic sex. Levi would roll his eyes if he hadn’t expected this.

“Again. I’m not _asking_ you. Open the door or get out of my way.”  
  
“I… I really can’t do that, Sir. Eren hates to be disturbed when he’s busy—”

As if on cue the woman’s moans become louder, the sounds leaking decadently through the closed door. _“Ah, ah, ahn… Daddy, yes—"_

Floch blanches, looking as if he wanted to be anywhere but here. “I—um, maybe they’ll be finished soon?”

Levi has reached the end of his patience.

Without a word, he turns and stalks over to what is obviously a guest bathroom. Floch breathes a premature sigh of relief. Levi grabs a bathrobe from a hook, then turns on his heel and returns to the bedroom door.

Floch’s eyes widen at his renewed approach. Before he can react, Levi has grabbed him by the collar and tossed him aside with a near unnatural ease, leaving Floch to fall in a confused heap on the lux carpet. Levi tries the door handle and finds it locked. The raunchy noises from inside are reaching a crescendo, the occupants blissfully unaware of what is about to happen.

Levi sighs.

Then he rears back, and kicks in the door.

Eren’s spacious, perpetually messy bedroom is dimly lit and clouded by smoke. Despite the low lighting, Eren and his companion are quite clearly _in flagrante delicto—_ the young woman is practically hanging off the bed, Eren gripping her hips as he plows into her.

They both freeze at the violent intrusion, then spring apart comically, the woman shrieking in alarm as Eren utters a furious _“What the fuck-”_

 “Put this on.” Levi tosses the bathrobe to the naked woman, who scrambles to cover herself with it. Floch stumbles in a split second later, nearly faceplanting next to Levi’s form.

“Eren! I’m so sorry, I tried to stop him, really—"

Eren turns a bewildered glare towards Levi, clutching a bedsheet to his pelvis for modesty. Levi returns the gaze with a look of detached amusement as Floch continues to blubber for forgiveness.

“Eren, Eren, I’m so sorry, I—”

“Shut _up!_ ” Levi and Eren both bark in unison. For the second time, Levi grabs Floch by his collar and tosses him out of the room, then shuts the door behind him.

When he turns around, Levi finds that Eren has secured the sheet around his waist and is now stalking angrily across the room.  Eren looms over Levi, fixing him with a furious glare.

“What the _fuck_ is your problem? You can’t just come in here and—”

“I just did.”

Levi takes an abrupt step closer, unphased by the younger man’s proximity and continued state of undress.  Eren flinches involuntarily, suddenly reminded of Levi’s strength and lack of concern for keeping Eren’s body unbruised. Forcing Levi out is not an option; lest he wants to get thrown around with the same ease that Levi handled Floch with.

 “I—ugh!” Eren throws his hands up in frustration. “What are you even _doing_ here?”

“It’s Monday. You know, the day most people go back to work?”

The woman, now looking cozy in the bathrobe and curled up against Eren’s pillows, muffles a laugh behind her hand. Eren turns his glare towards her. Levi continues.

“You look and smell like shit. Since you’re incapable of taking care of yourself, I’ve gone ahead and scheduled a few appointments for you.”

“I don’t _smell.”_ Eren lifts his arm and sniffs at his pit, then recoils. _Okay, maybe I haven’t showered properly in two days…_

To Eren’s surprise, Levi leans up and inhales as well. The he pulls back with a grimace on his perfect face.

“Exactly as I thought. Disgusting.” He then turns his sharp expression onto the young woman. “And you let him _inside_ you this morning?”

“I… stopped noticing after a while.” The blonde shrugs. “He’s a good lay, otherwise.”

“You deserve better.” Levi tells her.

The woman beams, making Eren scowl at Levi. “Are you _done_?”

“No.” Levi eyes the young woman neutrally. “What’s your name?”

“Hitch.”

“Charmed. Can you go wait outside for us, Hitch?”

“Sure… is this a sex thing?”

“No.”

“Okay. I’m cool with that.” She rises from the bed and slips out of the door, sounding slightly disappointed. Outside, Floch is still offering his pathetic apologies. Hitch shushes him as she makes a beeline for the kitchen.

“So this is how it’s gonna go.”

Turning back to Eren, Levi crosses his arms and squares his shoulders. “You’re gonna get your ass in the shower. Then, we’re headed downtown. Is that clear?”

“No, it’s _not_.” Eren hisses in return, crossing his arms as well. Even though Eren’s got a good ten inches on Levi, he still feels like he’s the one being stared down. “I don’t take orders from _you._ And I have other things I’m going to do today.”

“Like what.”

Eren hadn’t expected Levi to call his bluff. “Y’know… errands. And… fans… to surprise. At… like, a meet n greet.”

“Meaning, you’re planning on laying around the whole afternoon and then showing up half-wasted at some overpriced club this evening.”

“That—that’s not it at all.”

“Mm-hm.” Levi’s tone makes it clear that he sees right through Eren’s bullshit. Flustered, Eren feels himself getting angry all over again.

 _What right does this guy have to tell_ me _what to do?!_

“I don’t have to deal with this shit.” Eren makes to storm past Levi.

Before he can get to the door, he finds himself spun around, Levi’s hand fisted in his greasy hair.

Eren yelps, struggling to get loose without letting his bedsheet falling to the floor. “Ow, ow, _fuck_! Let go—"

“You’re coming with me whether you like it or not.” Levi pulls Eren’s face closer, staring him in the eyes as his voice lowers dangerously.

“It’s up to you… _Eren_. You can walk out of here or I can _drag_ you out. The paparazzi and your hordes of screaming fangirls will love that last option, I’m sure.”

Eren feels an intense shiver go up his spine. He is beginning to realize that he can’t fight or yell his way out of this. Not with someone as strong and terrifying as Levi in charge of him.

 _In charge of me…_ the thought makes Eren want to vomit. “You don’t _have_ to be here!”

“Wrong. Your shitty attitude won’t stop me from doing my job.” Levi’s grip tightens in Eren’s hair.  “I _promise_ you that.”

Eren believes him, finally. “Alright, alright!”

“Say you’ll cooperate.”

“I’ll cooperate! Just let go!”

Levi releases him, looking satisfied. Eren straightens up, immediately rubbing at his scalp. _Motherfucker…_

“Good.” Levi says dryly. “Now get in the fucking shower… _daddy.”_

Eren gasps audibly, his dick stiffening beneath the bedsheet. Levi ducks out of the bedroom with a hidden look of amusement, leaving the gaping brunet to wonder what the hell just happened.

 

**-x-**

 

In the shower, Eren finds himself fully hard again. Annoyed at the entire situation, Eren grasps himself and turns his thoughts back to Hitch, to the hazy, pornographic morning they shared. After storming out of Zeke’s office on Friday, Eren had taken a cab back uptown to his apartment. From then on, it was non-stop partying until he had his bedroom door kicked in less than five minutes ago.

He had been just about to cum when that man— _Levi_ —showed up. Levi, who was just as rude and unexpectedly forceful as he was the first time they met. Levi, who looked perfectly chic in all black again, his cologne heady and intoxicating, his voice low and sinful in Eren’s ear…

Groaning, he jerks his cock roughly as he leans his head against the wet, glimmering tile. _Fuck._ He wants to hate Levi, but something about the tiny, terrifying man just did it for him.

Why did the bane of his existence have to be so effortlessly sexy? Why did he have to have such perfectly shiny hair, a sharp tongue, and such a fit compact body that Eren could just imagine lifting up against a wall or bending over a table… to see Levi just _try_ to order him around after Eren’s fucked him senseless one good time, made Levi scream and moan and call him _daddy…_

Unexpectedly, Eren chokes and comes hard against the shower wall. He blinks in bewildered surprise at his fantasies having taken over.

Then, he scowls.

_Goddamn it. I can’t even jerk off without him interrupting…_

 

**-x-**

 

Being pissed off, minorly turned on, and coming down from a 3-day bender, Eren can do nothing but sulk once he gets into Levi’s car.

Levi doesn’t bother him during the drive, save for asking if Eren has a preference for the radio station, to which Eren just shrugs in irritation and looks out the window.

He doesn’t need a goddamn publicist. If there was one thing Eren hated more than anything it was being told what to do, being bossed around as if he had no will or autonomy of his own. He thought he had escaped that life when he left his father’s house, but surprise, surprise-- his brother was the same, desperate to control his every move and lame enough to hire someone else to do his dirty work for him.

Eren’s phone buzzes with a text from Connie: _dude wyd_

Eren responds: _that fucking guy my brother hired kidnapped me for boring meetings or some shit_

 **Connie:** _woah_

 **Connie:** _that sucks_

 **Connie:** _wyd later_

 **Eren:** _gonna bail first chance i get. will text you then_

 **Connie:** _cool cool_

Eren’s phone buzzes again, and he looks, thinking it’s from Connie. Instead, it’s from an unknown number.

_You better not be giving Levi any trouble._

Eren rolls his eyes. _Fuck off._ He texts, then blocks the number and shoves his phone in his pocket.

Twenty minutes later, Levi pulls up in front of the Paradis Day Spa, an establishment so luxurious that it has its own valet. Eren has never been, though Sasha and her friends swear by it. He’s impressed by the towering Moroccan architecture but retains the scowl on his face.

_There’s gotta be a catch, somewhere._

Eren follows Levi inside, keeping his head down as Levi leads them to the front desk. Levi checks them in while Eren looks furtively from side to side for an escape.

Levi turns back around to look at him, as if he can read Eren’s thoughts. “You’d look pretty ridiculous, running away now.”

Eren’s scowl deepens, but before he can reply, two spa employees come up on either side of him, taking him by the elbows. Without a word, they begin to guide him down a large, elegant hallway. “Wha—”

“Have fun.” Levi says, before turning back to the receptionist.

Next thing Eren knows, he’s being ushered into a washing area, where he’s instructed to strip once more and don soft white cotton shorts. Eren does, more confused than annoyed at this point.

From then on—well, the place wasn’t called Paradis for no reason.

Half an hour later, as he’s lying on his stomach on a soft cot, being rubbed down with an amber-scented oil beside a glittering shallow pool of koi fish, Eren begins to think that maybe there isn’t a catch, after all.

An hour after that, when his eyes are rolling back in his head because of how frigging _good_ the masseuse is kneading the soles of his feet, Eren thinks that maybe, just maybe he had judged Levi far too soon.

The afternoon passes in a haze of total pampering and relaxation, and by the end Eren feels better than he has on any drug. Levi re-appears somewhere in between his glute massage and his calf message; not to indulge, just to sit nearby and ask Eren questions like, “when was the last time you went to the dentist?” to which Eren responds with a noncommittal noise of pleasure, which leaves Levi to mutter a curse and then make a note on his tablet.

From then on Eren is led to the sauna, and then a hairdresser’s corner, where he receives a trim and a beard massage that leaves his face tingling… followed by an appointment for ear-candling, of all things, which got rid of the irritating congestion Eren had been dealing with for the last four months.

Against the cot, Eren’s body feels like pure jelly, his skin scrubbed and smelling amazing—Eren wonders why he hadn’t done something like this sooner, as rich as he is. The events of that morning seem so far away now, and he can barely remember why he was angry with Levi in the first place.

 _Might be something to this self-care thing that Sasha’s always talking about…_ Eren muses, stretching with a relaxed sigh and allowing himself to drift off under the technician’s expert care.

 

**-x-**

 

Just as the sun begins to set, Eren slides into the passenger seat of Levi’s car feeling like a brand-new man.

An afternoon of being pampered to the extreme has given Eren plenty of time to think, and he’s come to the easy conclusion that he had been going about the situation all wrong.

Levi did knock him around a bit, so Eren doesn’t intend to apologize—but he _does_ intend to turn the charm way, way up so Levi couldn’t help but give in to his request.

“Hey… Levi.”

“Ah, he speaks.” Levi mutters causally. They’re headed off to one last ‘appointment.’ Levi hasn’t told him where, though it seems as if he doesn’t exactly know himself, if the way he’s glaring at the GPS is any indication.

“Thanks for everything today.” Eren gifts him with a dazzling smile during the fleeting second Levi glances over.  “I mean it.”

It seems as if Levi hadn’t expected the easy gratitude; a fleeting looking of surprise passes across his face as he narrowly zooms through a red light. “Hn.”

“So, I’ve been thinking about it…” Eren continues, in his most easygoing tone. “…and I’ve decided that I’m willing to offer you twice as much as whatever my brother’s paying you to babysit me.”

Levi snorts. “No thanks.”

“Really?” Eren frowns, not expecting the brusque response. “Come on, you have to have better things to do than follow me around.”

“Obviously.” Levi cuts his eyes to the side.

 _Ouch._ Slightly miffed, Eren continues anyway. “So let me buy out my brother, and we can go our separate ways.”

“Who says you can afford me?”

Eren blinks. “I’m literally a millionaire.”

“Okay, _and?_ ”

Eren blinks again. Levi utters a curse. “Goddamn cobblestone streets—"

Eren makes a curious noise and leans back in his seat. “There has to be something you want...”

“Not from _you._ ” Though unexpectedly, Levi glances over towards his passenger, trailing his eyes up Eren’s torso as if to double-check before confirming his thoughts.

 _Interesting._ Eren decides to not let that go. In a not-so subtle move, he puts his arm behind Levi’s headrest, leaning in as close as he dares. “You sure…? Seems like you were pretty eager to see my dick this morning.”

“And now I’m eager to _forget it_. Your sloppy jack-rabbiting isn’t my thing.” Levi makes an illegal left turn down a side street. “No offense.”

Eren is highly offended—but he isn’t about to let Levi know that.

“I was hungover.” The brunet grouses, slumping back in his seat. “ _Obviously_. You weren’t supposed to see that, anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

It’s the second time he’s struck out in less than a week, and both times with the same person. Zeke must be laughing maniacally somewhere.

“Your ass is pretty nice though.” Levi comments offhandedly.

Eren’s attention snaps back to Levi, eyebrows raised. “Wait, really?”

“We’re here.” Levi stops the car abruptly, making Eren jerk forward in his seat, slamming his head on the dashboard.

“Ow!”

“Should’ve had your seatbelt on.”

Eren looks out of the window; they’ve stopped in front of a dingy side street that’s more like an alleyway; one Eren is quite familiar with. At the end of the street is one of the grungiest dive bars in the city, and the place where Eren used to perform when he first moved out west. _Wall Maria’s._

Eren frowns. He feels like he’s being set up again. “What are we doing _here?”_

“You’ll see.” Levi says neutrally.  “I’m gonna find parking. You go in without me.”

Eren doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s out of the passenger door in seconds, stepping onto the sidewalk and stretching in the late afternoon sunlight.

 _Finally, a chance to get out of here…_ But the thought is half-hearted at this point.

And anyway, sprinting down the street would be a bad look, so Eren commits to at least going inside the bar. He might as well say hi to the bartenders and the old crowd, if they’re still around.

Eren descends the cellar steps to the front entrance. He enters the bar, ducking his head beneath the doorframe. He’s hit immediately with the lingering odor of beer and cigarettes.

The place looks largely the same—exposed brick walls, low lighting, and a tiny, cramped stage area. There are two bartenders on duty, neither of whom Eren recognizes; but it is a Monday afternoon, after all.

He has no idea why Levi brought him here, but Eren doesn’t intend to stay for longer than he can get away with. He orders a shot and pays in cash, takes it to the head, and then turns back to the entrance with the intent to run off before Levi shows up.

That is, until a soft, familiar voice calls his name from a booth off to the side.

“Eren.”                             

Eren turns, then freezes.

Tucked into a small booth near the front is Mikasa; she’s waving him over with a welcoming smile on her face. Next to her is…

“Armin?”

The slender blonde—the third member of their childhood trio—is seated across from Mikasa. Seeing them together is almost surreal. Eren hasn’t seen Armin in years.

Come to think of it, how long had it been since they were all in the same place like this? Eren feels a sudden surge of nostalgia and anxiety all at once. Feeling overwhelmed, he nearly stumbles backward.

He doesn’t want to—he absolutely couldn’t deal with this now. He isn’t ready to face his childhood friends, wasn’t prepared to apologize for the awful way he responded to Mikasa during Zeke’s intervention last week. His breath begins to shorten at the perceived panic currently strumming through his body.

“Hey… Eren. It’s okay.” Armin stands, approaching cautiously. “We’re just here to talk.”

Eren’s phone buzzes in his hand; there’s a new text from an unsaved number.

_We’re done for the day._

_See you Wednesday. -Levi_

Eren can barely comprehend it over his rising anxiety. But then, a gentle hand falls on his shoulder, drawing him out of his thoughts.

“We’re just going to talk.” Armin repeats, looking Eren in the eyes, his voice a soothing comfort.

Blankly, Eren nods and allows himself to be led to the table.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter took forever and is super dialogue heavy. also, there's bit of a tone shift in the next chapter. mind the warnings and enjoy!

“So, the harness was half-loose and tangled around my leg, right? And all of a sudden there’s this loud _screech…_ and I realize that the eagle was _right there,_ and it was staring at me as if it were about to peck my face off—”

Mikasa and Eren both lean forward in interest. “Then what happened?”

“The handlers yanked me out of there, and I fell a few meters before landing on a branch.”

Eren whistles lowly. “Shit. Did it hurt?”

“Pretty bad.” Armin says with a grimace. “I was in the hospital for a week. It still beat being clawed to death by a pissed off giant bird, though.”

Tucked inside a booth in the corner of Wall Maria’s, the trio erupts into peals of genuine laughter.

It’s been over 5 years since they had relaxed with one another like this. But, as is often the case with old friends, it feels like no time at all has passed since they were last together.

Among the three, Eren isn’t the only one who had left their hometown and found success by pursuing his passion. His two closest friends from childhood have also done quite well for themselves. At just 16 years old, Armin Arlert was selected to receive a full scholarship to the most prestigious university in the country. Now at 23, he is a Pulitzer-winning photographer, known for his beautiful, full-color shots of rare and fascinating animals.

Mikasa Ackerman, who had been Eren and Armin’s first line of defense against bullies while they were growing up, had decided to channel her strength and aggression into Mixed Martial Arts. A year after Eren left their hometown, she had been scouted by an agent named Kiyomi Azumabito, who hired her the best trainers in the business. Now a champion fighter, Mikasa had moved to her mother’s hometown, Hizuru, to teach martial arts at a newly-opened dojo for women.

For the first time in a while, Eren feels comfortable. Reunited with his old friends again, it feels like all of his problems and stressors ere secondary. Why hadn’t they even gotten together until now?

“I’m proud of you guys.” Eren blurts with unexpected honesty.

“We’re proud of you too, Eren.” Mikasa’s soft smile lights up her face. Eren can’t help but smile back, until he’s struck by the bitter memory of the last time he had seen her.

“Hey…” Eren begins. “...So, I’m sorry I said you were dead to me the other day. I didn’t mean it… I was just kinda shocked.”

“I’m sorry, too.” Mikasa says, reaching across the table to place a soft hand atop of his. “Zeke told me that you knew I’d be there… I shouldn’t have believed him.”

Eren snorts. “Definitely not.” His expression then shifts to one of curiousity. “So… what are you guys doing here, anyway?”

Mikasa and Armin exchange glances. Armin speaks up, stirring his cocktail a bit.

“Well… Zeke is the reason, actually. Your brother contacted us both. He said that you could use some quality time with your friends.”

“…Oh.” Eren says, the fond look falling slowly from his face. “So, you didn’t come to Shiganshina on your own?”

“We did!” Mikasa says quickly. “Armin wanted to see you, and I haven’t been back in a while, so we thought it was the perfect opportunity to come spend time with you!”

“…Right. Okay.” Eren says, taking another sip of his drink even as his expression morphs into one of suspicion. “This is starting to feel like another intervention.”

Armin and Mikasa don’t laugh. Instead, they exchange a glance that has Eren feeling decidedly out of the loop.

“Oh. I see.” Eren’s defensiveness start to rise, as it does whenever he feels like he’s being set up. “Seems like you’re not here for me at all… you’re just here to do Zeke’s bidding.”

“Eren, please hear us out.” Armin says.

“I’m listening.”

“Your brother is concerned about you, and he decided to reach out to us. He thought that us visiting would—"

“My _brother_ ,” Eren interrupts. “Is not concerned about me. He’s concerned about the stupid election, and nothing else.”

Mikasa twists a lock of hair nervously. “Maybe so.... but even though we’re here on his request, that doesn’t mean we don’t want to spend time with you!”

“I’ve lived out here for 5 years.” Eren scoffs, looking at his two best friends with incredulity. “You both have had plenty of opportunity to come spend time with me.”

Mikasa and Armin both have to good grace to adopt similar guilty expressions. Eren tosses back his drink and makes a move to stand up.

“I think I’ve heard enough. I honestly have better things to do than sit here and listen to my so-called friends rag on me, so…”

“Eren, wait!” Mikasa exclaims, reaching out to take Eren’s wrist in hand. “We’re just _really_ worried about your behavior recently—”

“Why do you keep _saying_ that?” Eren asks in rising bewilderment. His volume makes quite a few patrons turn their way. “I haven’t been acting any different than usual!”

“Well… that’s the problem.” Though his tone is apprehensive, Armin is a calmer foil to Mikasa’s distress. “You’ve always been impulsive, and quick to anger… but now you have practically the entire world scrutinizing your actions.”

Eren has never disliked the easy certainty in which Armin assessed people-- until now, when it was turned onto him. A cold sweat starts to raise on his skin as his anxiety flares back up.

Armin continues. “You’re coming off as increasingly reckless and hotheaded. Yes, it makes your brother look bad… but it makes _you_ look even worse. And as your friends, that’s the last thing we want for you.”

“All the drugs, the fighting…” Mikasa chimes in, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. “I mean, you and Jean nearly killed each other last month.”

Eren’s turns his glare onto her. “Oh, it’s _Jean_ now, is it? You two on a first name basis, again?”

“You’re deflecting.” Armin says in a soft, yet firm voice.

“Yeah, cause I didn’t come here to deal with this bullshit!” Eren shouts. They have the attention of the entire bar now, and some patrons have taken out their cell phones to record. “We were having a good time until you brought up my asshole brother. What, is he paying you two as well?”

Armin and Mikasa exchange another silent glance.

Eren is pissed by now. “No fucking way.”

“He _tried_ to.”

“We both declined.”

“I can’t _believe_ you two. This is the first time we’ve seen each other in years, and you’ve come here for what? To give me a lecture?” Eren knows he’s ranting now, but he doesn’t care. “Why the hell should I listen to you two, anyway? You _barely_ supported me when I decided to follow my dreams. Come to think of it, neither of you have ever been to any one of my shows!”

“I’ve been to one.” Armin says, deadly quiet. “When you shoved that kid in Liberio.”

Breathing heavily, Eren turns his glare onto the blond. “That was an _accident_.”

Armin meets Eren’s angry expression without flinching. “So who’s to say you won’t accidentally do it again?”

Eren stares for a long while, then his eyes narrow. “Fuck you.”

“Eren!”

“Nah, fuck this. I’m outta here.” Eren fishes around for his wallet, then pulls out a few bills and tosses them on the table. “Thanks for the good time, ‘ _friends’.”_

He storms out of the bar. Mikasa stares after him, her face crumpling. Armin wraps his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close as they both look towards the door that Eren stormed out of.

“It’s okay.” Armin says, his tone determined. “He’ll come around soon. I’m sure of it.”

 

**-x-**

 

Zeke Yeager is a man who likes to throw things when he’s angry. And today? He is _beyond_ angry.

Porco Galliard, Zeke’s bodyguard-slash-grunt, yelps and ducks as a heavy book crashes into the wall behind him.

“Five days. Five _fucking_ days! And you’re telling me that you still haven’t found him?”

“No, Sir.”

“We’re sorry, Sir.” Yelena echoes.

“You better be. Why the fuck do I pay you two idiots, anyway?”

It’s Monday morning, a full week after Levi had dropped Eren off at the bar. Levi had shown up to Eren’s penthouse two days later, as promised; only to be told by Eren’s annoyingly smug assistant that the musician wasn’t home and he didn’t know when he’d be back. Levi had staked out the apartment for the next 36 hours before concluding that Eren was intentionally avoiding the building—and him.

Zeke is seething mad, but he knows better than to take that anger out on Levi. The mayor’s rant is largely background noise to Levi, who is seated comfortably on one of the decorative sofas. He flips casually through a sensationalist tabloid that features a grainy picture of Eren at Wall Maria’s on the cover.

Colt and Pieck share the other sofa. They lean apart in a synchronized manner just as a small potted succulent comes flying their way, sailing through the space between them to shatter against the wall.

“How. _How_ does an internationally-known wastoid just disappear like this? I need answers. _Now_.”

“Mr. Mayor…” Colt speaks up firmly, though with a bit of hesitation. “…should we really make finding Eren a priority? We don’t have time to focus on this. You have six campaign events in the next three days alone.”

Pieck nods in enthusiastic agreement. “Colt’s right. We shouldn’t waste any more time focusing on finding Eren. He simply isn’t worth it.”

“He could be dead in a ditch somewhere.” Levi comments offhandedly, just to gauge their reactions. Zeke pauses mid-reach to a paperweight, a look of guilt flashing across his face. Galliard and Yelena share an alarmed reaction, while Colt and Pieck look as if that hypothetical would solve of their problems.

 _Interesting._ Levi muses.

“We have to find my brother.” Zeke says decisively.  “He’s a huge liability if we can’t keep track of him.”

He then whirls back around to glare at his two underlings. “Now, where was I—"

The ringing of a cell phone interrupts what was sure to a barrage of insults. It’s Galliard’s; puzzled, he pulls it from his pocket and checks the caller ID before looking to his boss for instruction.

“Answer it.” Zeke grits.

Galliard brings the phone up to his ear. “Hey, Bert. What’s up?”

Levi watches with interest as the younger man’s expression goes from confusion, to one of surprise and then—relief.

“…Uh-uh. Yeah. Yeah, I get you. Right. Right. Don’t worry, I’ll tell him. Ok. Later.”

Galliard hangs up the phone. The rest of the room looks toward him in expectation.

With a heavy sigh of relief, Gaillard says, “I know where Eren is.”

 

**-x-**

 

Half an hour later, Levi pulls up in front of a modern, multi-residence loft that skirts the edge of the suburbs of Paradis City. He exits his car, not bothering to lock it—he won’t be here for long. He approaches the front entrance and reads the names attached to the buzzers. _Bryzinski, Freudenberg… ah, Hoover._

He rings the buzzer. After about a minute passes, the speaker crackles with static and a gruff voice asks, _“Who is it?”_

Levi leans forward, not bothering to disguise his voice. “Delivery.”

 _“Aw, sweet! Food’s here!”_ and then the door buzzes open, granting Levi access.

Levi rolls his eyes as he grabs the handle and slips inside. _Fucking idiot._

After a short elevator ride to the third floor, Levi stands in front of the apartment number Galliard provided. He rings the doorbell, then stretches casually in preparation of forcing his way into the apartment.

As it turns out, he doesn’t need to; when the door swings open, it’s by an utterly distracted Eren, sporting a headset and a controller in hand, still attempting to follow along with the first-person shooter game on the large flat screen visible from outside of the doorway. Levi waits patiently.

“You guys are fast—” Eren looks over at last; then all the blood drains from his tanned, handsome face. “Oh, _shit_.”

“Nice to see you, too.” Levi responds. Without warning, he kicks Eren’s ankle out from under him. Eren sputters and falls, controller and headset clattering to the ground. Levi catches him easily, tossing Eren’s body over his shoulder.

“Dude, what’s happening?” The voice of the guy who buzzed Levi in says. “Where’s the food?”  
  
The tips of Eren’s hair brushes the floor as he struggles in vain in Levi’s hold. “Dude, fuck the food! I’m being kidnapped!”

 “You think you’re real smart, don’t you?” Levi says lowly, just as a muscular blond and a tall brunette appear in the doorway.

Upside-down, from between Levi’s legs, Eren can see a bewildered Reiner and a satisfied looking Bertholdt peering down at him.

“Dude, what the hell!” The blond cries, even as his eyes are drawn back to the TV screen. “Give me back my bro!”

Eren makes a frustrated noise. “Dumbass, just get over here and help me!”

“I can’t, you know I’m in the middle of a killstreak!”

Levi ignores the idiotic blond. He nods towards Bertholdt. “Thanks for your cooperation.”

“ _You_ did this?” Eren demands to know, looking absolutely ridiculous as he hangs upside down, attempting to glare from behind the back of Levi’s knees.

Bertholdt crosses his arms, bending his taller form down so he can return the glare towards the hanging brunet.

“You’ve been here for a whole fucking week, Eren! And you leave your shit everywhere, how many times do I have to tell you that we don’t have a maid service here!”’

“Aw, but bro…” The blond starts, only to be whirled upon by the angry, towering man.  
  
“And you! Wash the goddamn dishes already, I’m sick of having to ask you all the time!”

Satisfied, Levi turns on his heel, hauling Eren’s still-struggling body over to the elevator, where he punches the down button. The elevator opens and Levi steps through the threshold easily, even as Eren attempts to grab onto the walls.

“Bertholdt, Reiner… _you fucking traitors…!”_ Eren’s last words echo through the hallway as the elevator doors close with finality.

 

**-x-**

 

After his attempt to escape Levi’s car is foiled by the child safety locks, Eren finds himself sulking in Levi’s passenger seat once again. This time, his ire isn’t directed towards Levi, but instead towards the dwindling circle of people he can trust. He had thought his friends were cool, but had been proven wrong once again. _First Armin and Mikasa... now Reiner and Bertholdt too? Why is everyone turning on me?_

Did the problem lie with Eren’s judgement, all along? Had he unconsciously chosen to surround himself with people who would sell him out at a moment’s notice? Eren chews absently at his fingernail, knowing that his thoughts were irrational but letting them take over all the same…

…until he’s jolted from his spiral by a sharp poke to the ribs. “Hey. _Manbun._ I’m talking to you.”

Eren shoots a dirty look over to the driver’s seat. _“What.”_

 “How are you feeling?”

Eren blinks, having not expected the question. “I was fine, before you showed up and kidnapped me like some deranged stalker.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you stopped flaking on our appointments.”

“You don’t _have to_ at all.”

“Clearly I do, if I want to get paid.” Levi responds dryly, glancing at Eren out of the corner of his eye. He then does a double take that would’ve been comical if Eren weren’t as irritable as he was.

“Is that…” Levi starts. “…is that the same shirt you were wearing when I dropped you off last week?”

Eren crosses his arms. “Maybe.”

“Dis _gusting...”_ Levi wrinkles his nose. “Anyway, there’s a lot we need to catch up on. My work has been set back because you decided to—"

He’s interrupted by a loud, echoing grumble; the sound comes from Eren’s stomach.

“Have you eaten today?”

“ _Yes._ I had half a slice of pizza and a four loko.”

“ _Yuck.”_ Levi makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a retch. “Okay, I can’t do this. We’re stopping for lunch.”

 

**-x-**

 

Levi takes them to a bright florescent diner, lit up in vintage bubble font even though it’s the middle of the day.

“You better not try to run before we’re done here.” Levi threatens casually as they slide into a comfortable booth in the back, away from the windows. “I’m faster than you, and don’t mind making a scene in this place.”

Eren has already decided not to. On the way over, he came to the conclusion that he was way more hungry than annoyed, after all. The delicious smells wafting from the diner’s kitchen only exacerbate that hunger. “I’m not gonna run.” He says, reaching for a menu.

“Good. You’d probably pass out from lack of nutrients before you could get very far, at any rate.”

Ignoring the jab, Eren reaches for the menu and begins to flip through the pages, scanning the options as his stomach grumbles. He still isn’t entirely happy about being tracked down and taken hostage by Levi _yet again_ , but it would be easier to think up an escape plan on a full stomach.

Also, Levi certainly is a sight for sore eyes, considering that Eren has spent the last six days holed up in Reiner’s mancave. His captor is in a dark v-neck shirt and blazer, his collarbones deliciously visible, lips pursed appealingly as he looks through the overly-large menu. Eyebrows knit in concentration, Levi flips from one page to the next, and Eren catches a brief glimpse of a tattoo inked across his left wrist.

Intrigued, Eren tilts his head to the side, hoping to get a better look. He’s already done an unreasonable amount of fantasizing about what Levi looks like without any clothes, and the sight does nothing to quell his curiosity. It looks large enough to span the length of Levi’s forearm, an intricate design inked in blue and green.

Eren’s eyebrows quirk in surprise, obscured behind the edge of his own menu. It seems like an awfully large tattoo for someone as uptight as Levi. _How far up does it go? Does he have any more? Maybe he’ll show me if I ask nicely…_

The waiter approaches with a friendly greeting. “Can I get you two started with some drinks?”

Levi folds up his menu. “Black tea, with lemon.”

“A long island iced tea, also with lemon.”

Levi snatches the menu from Eren and hands both menus to the waiter. “He’ll have a _regular_ iced tea.”

Eren makes a face. “Killjoy.”

“Yep.” Levi opens his satchel as the waiter departs, pulling out a work tablet. “So. It’s check-in time. How was meeting with Mikasa and Armin?”

“A shitshow.” Eren immediately reaches for the napkin dispenser and starts to fiddle around with it; the nervous habit doesn’t go unnoticed by Levi.

“Care to elaborate?”

“No. Except that I think it was a dick move for you to set me up like that.”

“Why?”

“Because me and my frien— _those two_ don’t really get along anymore.”

“And why is that?”

“What is this _, Dr. Phil?_ Stop asking me so many questions.” Eren says, roughly pushing the napkin dispenser back into place against the wall. “All this guilt-tripping isn’t going to change me, so you might as well just stop.”

“You think I’m here to _change_ you?”

“That’s what all this is about, right?”

“Wrong.” Levi unlocks the tablet, then types something into a new tab out of Eren’s line of vision. “I’m not here to change your dumbshit behavior, Eren. I’m here to make sure your dumbshit behavior doesn’t affect your brother’s campaign.”

“I knew it.” Eren scoffs.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re the smartest guy in the room.” Levi says, sarcasm underly his voice as he turns the tablet around to face Eren. “So maybe you can figure out _why_ exactly Zeke hired me.”

Frowning, Eren leans forward. Presented on the screen is a list of tabloid headings in chronological order.

 

 

**_“Eren Yeager’s Epic Dive Bar Meltdown!!”_ **

****

**_Eren Yeager:  Intoxicated in public—two nights in a row??_ **

 

**_SHOCKING: Eren Yeager BRUTALLY SLAMS teenage fan to the ground!_ **

 

**_Eren Yeager: EXPLOSIVE Fistfight with Popular DJ!_ **

****

**_Eren Yeager Ejected from Club for Belligerence_ **

 

Eren scowls deeply, feeling another lecture come on. “Most of these aren’t even _true—_ ”

“I know that,” Levi interrupts. “And I don’t care. The comments are what’s important.”

The older male turns the table back around, shutting it off before moving it aside and looking up to meet Eren’s eyes. “Every time your name is in the papers, your brother’s approval rating takes a hit. At least half of the comments on these articles mention your brother. Ignoring your behavior is doing him more harm than good.”

“Why is that _my_ pr _—”_

Eren is cut off by their server setting their drinks on the table. “You two ready to order?”

“—yeah.” Unhurriedly, Eren tells the waiter his lunch choice. Levi does the same.

“So. As I was saying…” Levi continues, once the waiter has left. “Your brother is hosting a _very important_ fundraising event three weeks from now. If you keep all your appointments from now until then… and, if you attend the gala and stay the entire night without making a fool of yourself… Zeke will cut my contract short. Though… that seems like a pretty low bar.”

Eren raises an eyebrow. _Three weeks isn’t that long at all…_

“Really? And that’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Eren considers it. Three weeks isn’t as much time as he expected, and meeting up with an attractive piece of eye candy like Levi every couple of days wasn’t the worst thing he could be subjected to.

But still…

…it’s the principal of things.

“No.”

“No?” Levi asks, leaning forward ever so slightly.

“ _No_ ,” Eren emphasizes, “because I shouldn’t have to do this in the first place. Zeke’s an asshole, why should I care if he gets re-elected or not? He doesn’t care about what I want, which is to _not_ have a babysitter.”

“Eren.” And suddenly Levi’s expression darkens in a way that has Eren’s heart sinking into his stomach in fear. “I’m going to explain this to you _one last time.”_

His hand shoots out, twisting in the collar of Eren’s raggedy t-shirt and pulling his face millimeters away from his own. His tone is low and even when he begins to speak.

“I’m _not_ a babysitter. I truly don’t give a shit about what you do. You want to be high and hungover every day, feel free. You want to stick your dick in anything that moves, go for it. If you want to be a one-hit wonder who burns out before realizing your full talent, then _be my fucking guest.”_

Glowering, Eren tries to pull away. As expected, Levi doesn’t let him.

“I’m not here to _babysit_ you. I’m here to teach you how to be an adult, which means acting with discretion so the people around you aren’t affected by the stupid shit you do. And that’s it.”

“I know how to be an adult.” Eren insists, even though it sounds unconvincing to his own ears.

 _“Do you?_ I had to force you to _bathe_ last week. Today I literally had to pull you away from video games so you could eat something healthy. If you think I’m a babysitter, maybe it’s because _you’re acting like a fucking baby.”_

Levi releases Eren’s shirt, settling back into his side of the booth. “We’re stuck together whether you like it or not. Though, I’d much rather be accountable for someone who actually gives a shit about himself… instead of a vapid, whiny celebrity constantly on the verge of a tantrum.”

No one had ever spoken to Eren like this before.

Every single one of Levi’s words ring true, and without the added pity or condescension that he friends or his brother would usually add… the message hits home.

He’s silent for a long, long while. So long that their server returns with their meals, wisely setting them upon the table then retreating without saying a word.

Finally, Eren speaks. “…Only three weeks?”

Levi has a forkful of salad halfway towards his mouth. He sets the fork down and nods. “Only three. But you are to meet with me twice a week, and attend every and all your scheduled appointments.”

Eren takes a deep breath, then exhales slowly. “Fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, okay. I agree.”

“Promise me.” Levi’s phrasing is surprisingly intimate. Eren raises his gaze to look the older man in his eyes, holding his hand out across the table.

“I _promise_ that I will attend every meeting with you and whatever lame ass appointments you schedule for me in the next three weeks. And also, I’ll attend the stupid gala and charm the panties off everyone while I’m at it.”

Levi takes Eren’s hand in his own; his grip is warm and firm. They shake once, and Levi’s expression lightens to something almost relieved when their hands part.

“Alright. Well, then… I guess you’re free to go.”

For some reason, the tension begins to drain from Eren’s body. He gestures to the plate in front of him. “Can I at least eat my sandwich first?”

“’Course you can.” Apparently not above a bit of teasing, Levi picks up a butter knife and gestures toward Eren’s meal. “You want me to cut it up into little pieces, too?”

“Only if you hand-feed it to me.” Eren retorts.

“Tch.” Levi gives him a look, his dark eyes flashing appealingly. “Not bad.”

They don’t share another word for the duration of their meal. Still, despite everything, Eren feels oddly at ease.


End file.
